


Fall

by DestinyWaits



Series: Fireteam Schadenfreude: Elletu Tiamat [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fireteam Schadenfreude, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 00:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14008452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyWaits/pseuds/DestinyWaits
Summary: Maybe she’ll stay.





	Fall

_It started like this:_

Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding against her chest. Heavy bullets of rain pelted her windows, booming thunder and crackling lightning echoed in the dark room. City lights shone ever-so faintly through the glass panes, and though the air was frigid with the onslaught of the storm, she could still feel the warmth of the Traveler-

_The Traveler._

She fought against her sheets in a panic- too tight, too restricting- she needed to  _leave_. She toppled out of the bed, landing face-first onto the cold hard floor. She pushed herself upwards and stumbled out into her living room, her breathing rapid and shallow. Her Ghost, previously resting on the couch, fluttered up towards her, optic blinking in worry.

He asked what had happened. She sobbed in response.

He asked again what had happened. She replied through choked gasps: “A dream. Bad one. The City was on fire, and the Traveler was- there was no Light and everyone was dying and I couldn’t do anything and- and we were  _dead_.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. Gently, he asked if it was because of what happened with  _them_. She did not reply, save for a sharp intake of breath and more tears, fists clenched and jaw trembling. He said nothing more, merely rested on her shoulder.

Eventually, her tears died down. She chuckled to herself, then, a quiet watery laugh, “Traveler’s Light, Abzu, I’m a mess.”

Her Ghost hummed noncommittally, “Maybe so. But look at this.“ He projected a series of calculations- numbers compiled from Hunter scouts, computations from other Warlocks, observations from Titan patrols, “The probability of Cabal entering City limits is above the negligible threshold. You may not be as crazy as you seem.”

She stayed quiet for a moment. “Maybe. Or, maybe it’s what you asked before. About them,” she rubbed at her eyes tiredly, “Maybe this is just my brain’s twisted way of dealing with- with them leaving. By giving me a far-fetched reason to leave as well.”

Another moment of silence before he spoke up again: “It’s up to you. Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you.”

She blinked once, twice, a fresh wave of tears forming, ”Thank you.”

He floated towards her and rested on top of her head, exuding slivers of warm Light as he burrowed his way into her hair. “You’re my Guardian, of course I’ll always be here,” he mumbled. She smiled tightly, stroked his shell in gratitude.

His words did nothing to quell the worry biting at her insides.

* * *

She spent the better part of the next two days holed up in her flat, rewatching her favorite documentaries, reorganizing her research, forgoing food for coffee- just the right amount of distraction to keep the still-present need to leave at bay.

She was well into rereading her notes on the perils of touching Vex time portals when her Ghost gently bumped her shoulder to attract her attention. Pushing the papers aside, she turned to face him. Wordlessly, he emitted little beams of light, random at first, before forming a clear image hovering in front of her.

It was a message- a friend asking her to visit the Reef, stay for a while. The kids were asking for her, it said. It brought a smile to her lips; her friends always did. At least, those that cared to stay. Her smile dimmed, remembering the tears, the anger, the feeling of  _not being enough_. Never enough to make them stay. Always the reason for them leaving.

Her smile had vanished, had been tugged into a tight frown and clenched teeth. Abzu hovered beside her silently, the message still lighting up the dark room. She wiped her eyes angrily.

She made a vow to herself then, that she would never abandon her home. Not like her so-called friends, who left her and the City, first chance they got.

She sent back a quick response. If the City falls, she falls with it. The gnawing pit in her stomach subsided, replaced by a sense of finality- it had been chosen, it had been done.

She does not know what  _it_  is, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

* * *

_It ends like this:_

A week later. Another storm- rolling dark clouds, pelting rain, and bouts of lightning and thunder. She walks the lively market streets alone, cracks a joke to her Ghost about the ‘impending doom of the storm’. She laughs, her Ghost hums amusedly, and for the first time in a while, she is content.

Then came a still silence, like the ocean receding from the shoreline.

Then- the unmistakable sound of whistling missiles; the boom of explosions, the low whine of aircraft.

She draws the golden hand cannon strapped to her belt, hidden under her coat; Abzu immediately transmats her armor and weapons to her before winking out of her sight. She readies her gun, breaths quick and tense, eyes sweeping the streets for the City’s assailants- a difficult task, as all civilians had scattered to find safety, in fear of being struck by the missiles.

The sound of thundering steps grabs her attention immediately. Bursting out of the alleyways came a troop of twenty-odd Cabal. 

Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Dodge. Cover. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Shoot. Grenade. Shoot.

Like a familiar dance, she felled the troop of Cabal charging through the market to siege the Tower. People begin to run towards the Tower on instinct, despite the flames and smoke arising from the top. The crack of gunshots and the overbearing warmth of Light essence filter constantly through the streets as Guardians fought the onslaught.

Shoot. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Grena-

Darkness overtakes her senses. The sight of hailing bullets, the scent of burning buildings, the warmth of the Traveler: all vanish, and for a moment, she is not Tiamat, but something else- something that had built its home in the quiet cold.

A second ticks by. Then another. Then another, before a trickle of warmth passes by and finally-

She bursts forth in a haze of burning flames, Legionaries, Phalanxes, Psions stepping back in surprise at the fiery energy of her Radiance. She reaches for the nearest Cabal, flames licking its armor, incinerating its very being. She grins wildly at the group, still illuminated by the fire of the Traveler’s Light.

The Cabal snarl and charge towards her, recovering from the surprise of her Radiance. She tosses a grenade in front of her, and ducks behind a merchant’s cart. The Warlock presses herself against the wood, reloading her empty hand cannon- still grinning in between ragged breaths as she hears the shrill screech of dying Psions.

She readies her hand cannon, gives one last hopeful glance at the Traveler.

Maybe this time will be enough.

Maybe this time  _she’ll_  be enough.

With that last thought, she takes a deep breath and leaps out of hiding, gun aimed at the Legionaries bumbling towards her. 

Shoot. Shoot. Duck. Shoot. Shoot. Shoo-

Pain explodes in the back of her head. Darkness overtakes her senses once again. Everything is quiet, the roar of Cabal and the sting of her wounds disappearing once more.

A second ticks by. Then another. Then a minute passes, and she feels herself dissolving, becoming one with nothing. Another minute passes. Another minute passes.

Her strength is slowly fading, as is she. Panic begins to set in through the haze of death, and she begins to struggle against the cold setting into her very essence. 

She feels a thin string of Light reach towards her. It is weak- not as strong as it should be, but it is enough. She reaches towards it, musters enough strength to grasp the tugging sensation, readying herself for the lurch back to existence. Her fingers clasp around warmth, and she feels herself resurfacing, sees her surroundings brighten, can almost taste the ashy air of a fallen City and-

The thread is cut loose. The light disappears.

The cold welcomes her home.

**Author's Note:**

> First thing I've written in months- I hope it isn't too bad!


End file.
